Hell Cop

by David C. Burton

  The Hound's howl of pain and surprise echoed in my head. In a second, I remembered a dog hit by a car when I was kid. Its pitiful cries clutched at my adolescent heart. I wanted to stop its agony, but I wanted the dog to get better, not die. This time I had been the one who inflicted the pain. Though the beast would have eagerly ripped my heart out, I wanted its misery to end. I couldn't help or heal it, so, with conflicting emotions, I watched the poor Hound scrabble and snap and, once again, I began to doubt if I had the toughness it took to be a Hell Cop.

  Sneaker didn't have any doubts, or at least she had the courage to do what had to be done. She went up to the Hound and shot it in the head. The shot did no physical damage that I could see. The beast lay still and I thought, is that it? Is that how a savage Hound from Hell dies? Not even a whimper? Then the Hound raised its head and answered my question.

  The enormous jaws opened and emitted a eerie, almost tangible, cry. It seemed to wrap around us like a soft, yet constricting blanket. I couldn't move, nor did I want to. The farewell song touched me with a deep sadness. The Hound was, after all, a being with at least enough intelligence to know of its death and want to bid farewell to others of its kind. The cry continued, and out of its mouth a vapor issued. It swirled about the body like a living thing. Tendrils of mist explored me like cold fingers. The vapor held Sneaker, too. I wondered if I should tell her I loved her, just in case. Though, surprisingly, I felt no malice in the Hound's spirit.

  I watched her through the swirling vapor. Sneaker had inherited her Oriental eyes, thin lips, and dusky skin from her Chinese father. Her mother gave her a thin nose, high cheekbones, and a strong chin that she held up to show her defiance. She wore her black hair short like most Hell Cops. Short hair is harder for something to grab, and a leisurely shower and shampoo is out of the question. It stood up in haphazard spikes. She was the most beautiful sight I'd ever seen.

  The mist flowed from around us, rose in a whirlwind, and dissipated, leaving us surprised to be alive. The Hound's cry faded up and down the canyon. Its body vanished.

  Free to move, I joined Sneaker.

  “We killed a Hound, Getter. It's never been done that I know of. Son of a bitch.”

  “Another good story for your memoirs,” I said.

  She flashed me a tired smile. “And you'll be in all the good parts,” she assured me.

  I gave her a grin back. “I've already been in all your good parts.”

  “Oh, was that you?”

  15 returned to normal. The fires roared, the souls screamed. The Supervisor and his minions drifted toward us. Faraway, another Hound let the canyon know it was on the hunt.

  “I think it's time to move along,” I said. “How's the ankle?”

  “I can stand it.”

  Guns drawn to discourage any brave minions who wanted to move up in the ranks, we hurried around the cauldron and faded into the back area. Five minutes later, limping badly, Sneaker led me into one of the caves. A hundred feet in we flattened against the rough cave wall as an empty cart rolled past into the dark. I turned to ask Sneaker where we were going. She was gone.

  “Sneak, damn it. I hope this is a joke and not for real. Where are you?”

  “Right behind you.”

  I about faced and stared at the rock. I played my flashlight over the wall. Nothing.

  “Sneaker, don't do this to me now.”

  “I'm here, dummy.” Her hand came out of the wall and grabbed my arm.

  “What the hell?”

  She pulled me into a camouflaged crack in the rock. I had to take off my pack and suck in to squeeze through.

  “Christ, Sneak, what is this?”

  “Come on,” she said.

  We side-stepped about ten feet, then single-filed another twenty to a tiny open area. I felt the weight of the mountain on my shoulders. I'm not particularly claustrophobic, but I felt the space we were in shrink around me. I focused on the flashlight's circle and breathed deep and slow.

  Sneaker reached into the darkness above, pushed up, then pulled down a crude wooden ladder.

  “Next stop, the Penthouse,” she said.

  She turned off her flashlight and started climbing. I kept mine on. The ladder topped out on a narrow ledge twenty feet up. She showed me how to lift the ladder and set its legs into holes chiselled in the rock. From the ledge we crawled upward through a short tunnel. At the other end we stood.

  “Turn out your light,” Sneaker said.

  “What?” I didn't like that idea.

  She took my arm and pressed close. “Turn out your light.”

  I turned out the light. “Holy shit!”

  “Like I said, welcome to the Penthouse.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  A narrow cavern extended miles through the mountain. A river of molten lava flowed several hundred feet below us. My eye followed its course up the cavern to a lavafall so spectacular I forgot to breathe. The falls must have been a thousand feet high. Blue and orange flame flared as the lava poured over the edge. At the bottom the lava disappeared into a mist of sparks. The distant roar of the falls surrounded us. It came from everywhere. The reflected glow of the lava lit the cavern with soft, rosy light.

  Huge columns formed by converging stalactites and stalagmites held up the roof. Some columns were tens of feet thick and some only inches. The roof rose high above us. It was polished black, and the reflection of the lava wove across it like aurora. Despite the lava, the cavern was relatively cool. A huge funnel-shaped hole penetrated the ceiling, sucking out the hot air and creating a breeze throughout the cavern. Over the dull roar of the lavafall I heard water trickling.

  I stood dumbfounded for several minutes before I found my voice. When I spoke, my voice couldn't help but come out in a whisper of awe.

  “This is fantastic. I had no idea this was here. How did you find it? That lavafall is incredible.”

  “It's called Fairy Falls,” Sneaker said softly. “See how the sparks swirl out like wings?”

  “It has a name? Jeez, Sneak, who else knows about this place?”

  “Just one Hell Cop that I know of.”

  She sucked a quick breath through her teeth as she let go of my arm and put weight on her bum ankle. I asked if she needed help. She testily told me no but didn't protest too much when I scooped her up in my arms. Maybe my kiss distracted her. I held my breath, averted my gaze from the emptiness in front of me, and inched along a narrow ledge to a wide spot that had obviously been in use for a long time.

  “You okay?” she asked when I set her down by a crude wooden table.

  “Oh, yeah, that's my favorite thing, walking along narrow ledges with thousand foot drop-offs.”

  With a gentle sweep of her fingers, she wiped the sweat from my brow. “It's not like falling into the Abyss.”

  “That's a great comfort. What is this place? You come here for summer camp?”

  The table and two cobbled together chairs were set against the far side of a roughly square indentation. A fire blackened ring of stones with a small wire grill was closer to the edge than I liked, though I felt relatively safe in the little hideaway. Two blankets and foam pads were rolled up in the back. In one corner a miniature waterfall fell ten feet to a small pool, then flowed through a groove in the rock to the edge of the cliff. A metal bucket with holes in the bottom hung on a iron spike beside the falling water. Cans of food were stacked on natural rock shelves.

  Still in awe, I looked out into the huge cavern.

  “Sneaker,” I said, holding my arms out to indicate the magnificent scene. “This place is incredible. Who's the other Cop who knows about it?”

  “Destiny.”

  I turned to face her.

  “Destiny? I forgot you trained with him..”

  Destiny was a legend among Hell Cops. For forty years he'd retrieved souls from Hell. He was a short stocky man with a round bald head, round eyes, and big ears. Not exactly a heroic image, but he was fearless, intelligent, and dedicated. It was
said that he once retrieved a soul from Satan's bedroom.

  “He taught me everything I know.”

  “Then you must know a lot. Is he as good as the stories say he is?”

  Sneaker moved the chair so she could let the water run over her feet.

  “Yes, he was that good.”

  “Was?”

  “He retired about six months ago.”

  “Retired? Man, a Hell Cop for forty years. Hard to imagine surviving down here that long. He must have some tales to tell. Is he going to write his memoirs?”

  “Nah, I don't think so. The stories about him are much more interesting than the reality. At least he thinks so.”

  I sat down by the fire ring and gazed out at the cavern. I couldn't get enough of it. The reflection of the lava river on the polished ceiling was like an orange snake winding its way among the columns that supported the roof. As I stared, it was as if the serpent breathed, expanding then contracting while it slithered across the underground sky.

  I rested my hand on a fire ring rock. I was so dazed at the unexpected sights, it took a minute before I realized the rock was hotter than the surrounding stone. I waved my hand low over the ashes. It had been twelve hours at the most since they'd been formed.

  My eyes on the lavafall, I said, “So you and Destiny are the only ones who know about this place?”

  “As far as I know. And you.”

  I heard splashing and turned to look. Sneaker, naked to the waist, leaned forward from the chair with her head under the waterfall. The water left glistening trails on her dusky skin. She sat back and shook her head like a sleek proud animal. Not at all embarrassed at my scrutiny she stretched and slowly rolled her head. Her smile was like a flashbulb in the dark, blinding me to everything else.

  “Getter, come wash my back,” she said and smiled again.

  * * * *

  After making love and eating a meal we lay together on the blankets. The water kept the air cool, and the occasional spray was sensuous on my skin. Sneaker's head rested on my chest. She smelled of shampoo and sex. The thought of leaving the refuge of the Penthouse sent a shiver through me. As if she read my mind and knew what I needed, Sneaker snuggled closer.

  A few minutes or a few hours later, Sneaker said, “How'd you become a Hell Cop? You never told me.”

  I told her how my late wife's father introduced me to soul retrieval. I was young and thought my balls were made of stainless steel back then, eleven years ago, so I tried it. I told her how my own father was instrumental in my staying with it.

  He had had the wanderlust. His curiosity and affinity for remote, indigenous people carried him around the earth, either on his own, as part of some expedition, or on a rescue mission. I loved his stories of unknown lands and strange peoples. As a kid I yearned to have stories of great adventures to tell him in turn.

  At sixty, he lost a leg during a rescue mission in the high country of Peru. They found the cancer at the same time. There would be no new adventures for my father, but he eagerly listened to mine. I hope I repaid him for all the pleasurable hours he kept me enthralled with his detailed yarns of faraway places. He impressed upon me his desire to help people in need. If we meet again in Heaven, I intend to have a lot more tales to tell him. Though it's souls, not people, I'm saving, I think he'll be proud. Assuming I make it to Heaven.

  “He will be proud of you,” Sneaker said. “You're a good man, and if I ever need rescuing, I'd feel a lot better knowing you're the one coming after me.”

  “I hope you're saving your money. My rates are high.”

  Her hand roamed my body and, her tongue in my ear, she whispered, “I'll keep that in mind.”

  Later she asked, “Getter, do you think you'll be a Hell Cop for forty years?”

  “I doubt it,” I said, watching the lava river's undulating reflection on the cavern roof. “I think Destiny used up an awful lot of luck by lasting that long.”

  “Do you think you'll die here?”

  “If anybody thought that, who'd be foolish enough to come here? The money's good, but still ...”

  “Destiny thought he would die in Hell,” she said.

  “Are you kidding? Man, why'd he keep coming back then?”

  Sneaker shifted onto her side and propped her head up on her elbow. Her fingers absently traced circles on my stomach.

  “He didn't want his tombstone to read—Here lies Destiny. Dead of boredom. Finally released from ordinariness.” She nodded as if agreeing with the sentiment.

  I reached out and caressed her silky hair.

  “What do you want on your stone?” I asked.

  She thought for a minute, then glanced at me as if checking to see if I was really paying attention.

  “Here lies Sneaker. She did some good. Earned the respect of her peers. Did it her way.”

  “Why mention the respect part? You have that.”

  “Yeah, sure. How many women Hell Cops are there?”

  “I don't know. Two others that I know of.”

  “And how many men?” she asked.

  “Don't know for sure. A hundred around the world probably,” I guessed.

  “Right. Soul retrieval is a man's game, and most men want to keep it that way.” A hint of bitterness rode on her words.

  “I don't think—.”

  “Don't defend them, Getter. I can do the job as well as any man. I just want to be accepted for what I can do, not shut out.”

  “What do you mean, ‘Shut out?'”

  “This is the first job I've had in three months. The woman who hired me is a heavy duty feminist, and I still almost didn't get the job. Only one man will send me referrals. One priest told me it wasn't a woman's job. He actually said I should stay home and have babies. The asshole.”

  “Well you damn sure have my respect,” I said. “We killed a Hound, Sneak. Some Hell Cops may be chauvinists, but none of them has ever done that. They'll come around.”

  “They'll think I'm trying to take some of your glory.”

  “Give yourself some credit will you?”

  She pouted for a few seconds, then flashed a smile.

  “We did kill the fucking thing, didn't we?”

  “Yeah, we did. It'll make a Hell of a story, won't it?”

  She placed her hand on my chest to assure me of the sincerity of her concern. “Jesus, Getter, it had you over the Abyss.”

  “I know.” I didn't want to talk about that.

  I held Sneaker in my arms and eventually slipped into an uneasy sleep. In Hell, even in sleep, a Lifer's guard is always up. There is always danger. But in the Penthouse, my unconscious must have felt safe and so let down its guard. My dreams were haunted by visions of Hounds, and the emptiness of the Abyss, and serpents and flying demon heads. I woke, aware of what was happening to me, unable to control it. My heart pounded. I began to hyperventilate. My lungs screamed for oxygen. Fear slammed through me. Fear of Hell. I couldn't leave the security of the cavern, ever. I was doomed to die in the safety of the cavern, but better that than to go out into danger again. In my dread-filled mind I saw myself falling through the Abyss. Falling, falling forever chased by Hounds and serpents and demons’ heads.

  My thrashing woke Sneaker.

  Immediately alert, gun in hand, she crouched next to me.

  “Getter, what's the matter?”

  “Scared,” I gasped.

  “Oh, shit.” Quickly, she looked around. “No bags, damn it.” She laid down the gun and straddled me. “It's a good thing I like you, Getter.”

  She took a deep breath, pinched my nose, and covered my mouth with hers. The extra carbon dioxide she breathed into me began to ease the hyperventilation. In a few minutes I could breathe on my own; the self-perpetuating terror of the anxiety attack began to fade.

  Sneaker laid a cool rag on my forehead. “Damn, Getter, you scared the shit out of me, man.”

  Once I began breathing normally I said, “I should never have come in here.”

  “What are y
ou talking about?”

  I wanted to sit up, but my whole body was limp as if all my bones were missing.

  “As long as I'm out there, in Hell proper, where I have to be alert all the time I can control the fear. I don't have time to think about being scared, and it doesn't bother me. Even standing over the Abyss, facing the Hound, I was tense, yes, but not particularly scared. You know what I mean?”

  Sneaker wrapped a blanket around her shoulders and sat next to me.

  “Yeah, I know. No time to be terrified, only time to think about surviving.”

  “Exactly. Only in here, in the Penthouse, where it's safe, you have that time. When you mentioned the Abyss and the Hound I started thinking about it and couldn't stop. Jesus, I've never had an attack down here before.”

  “You've had anxiety attacks before?”

  “Just about every time I come down. Right after I activate the Find and the road to the tunnel appears, I usually spend a few minutes throwing up. After that I'm fine. What about you?”

  Her fingers intertwined nervously. In the gloom of the cavern they looked like a ball of hornworms copulating. She kept her head down. I squeezed her knee, lightly.

  “I showed you mine. Now you show me yours. I won't think less of you.”

  She shot me a glance, wrinkled her lips, and shrugged.

  “I'm okay going in. Nervous, but excited, you know. While I'm in it's like you said, no time to be scared. Once I'm out, that's when I lose it. When I get to my car I'm like a zombie on the outside, yet inside I'm boiling. I want to explode, but I know, I know, that if I freak out right there something will come through the gate and get me. So I get in the car and drive very carefully to a cheap motel that's close by. I mean the pressure inside me is so great I feel like my eyeballs are going to pop out.”

  Her tears glistened in the lava glow. I knew exactly how she felt and wanted to comfort her, but had the sense to let her finish.